


Just the Sky the Earth and Us

by Blood_and_ink



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kisses, Fluff, M/M, Post Fall, soft bois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22690924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_and_ink/pseuds/Blood_and_ink
Summary: Hannibal and Will drag themselves from the ocean, but are they the same men who fell in?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because my friends have the audacity to live a million miles away, this is a birthday present for @hannigraminsta. If I can’t give you the world, I can at least try to give you our boys being cute together 
> 
> I don’t know where this is going to go yet, it’s not even the main fic I’m writing right now so updates might be slow, but I’m aiming for a couple chapters and I’ll update the tags as needed  
> Un-beta’d so all mistakes are my own

Their first kiss had been hurried and clumsy. After they had hauled themselves out of the sharp cold of the Atlantic and onto the rough shingle beach, gasping with the effort and holding onto one another for support, they had knelt with their foreheads pressed together. It was Will who closed the space between them, pressing his cold lips to Hannibals. He wasn’t sure whether it was out of relief or defiance, wasn’t even sure it was a conscious decision at all. They both tasted of salt and iron, a heady mix of blood and seawater. Hannibal froze at the first touch, and didn’t move until Will broke the contact a few seconds later. At this Hannibal opened his mouth to speak, but Will shook his head denying him any opportunity to comment. Together they hauled themselves fully upright and began to steadily follow the small inlet away from the ocean, which eventually lead them to a cabin that stood in a small clearing amongst the dense forest.  
Will had kicked the door open when they arrived as Hannibal's wounds were so severe he could barely hold himself upright. He clutched the wound weeping below his shirt as he leant against the porch railing, stumbling forward to lean on the door frame once Will had checked that the cabin was as empty as it had appeared from the gate.  
“There’s no one here. I don’t think anyone’s been here for some time, looking at the state of the place” he reassured Hannibal, as he insinuated himself below the older mans arm, making sure to use his good shoulder to help support him as they shuffled their way to the dusty couch.  
After Hannibal got himself situated in a way that didn’t cause too much pain, he reclined slightly and pulled up his sodden shirt to inspect the exit wound that marred his stomach. The cold ocean water had kept the swelling minimal and while it was still bleeding it was sluggish and already attempting to clot in places.  
While Hannibal was assessing the damage, Will had been moving around the small house fetching a bottle of water from the fridge which he placed on the side table before returning to the kitchen and adjacent bathroom, throwing open every cupboard door until he found a small but well-stocked first aid kit.  
“Let me see that” Hannibal held his hand out towards Will, palm up, when he walked back holding the pack triumphantly. Will handed it over, fetched himself a bottle of water and came to sit beside his friend on the couch. He winced as he drank, the wound in his face smarting with every pull from the bottle but between the blood loss and the salt water he had gulped down after their cliff dive he was thirstier than he’d known it was possible to be.  
Hannibal used this time to inspect the contents of the medial pack, laying everything out on the low coffee table in front of them. He was relieved to find sutures and needles tucked in a small pocket, there was a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a stack of gauze as well which he carefully added to the growing pile of supplies.  
“I can stitch the worst of it, but I’m going to need your help with the entry wound Will” Hannibal rasped.  
“Sure. It won’t be as pretty as you’d like but it should hold” Hannibal just hummed in response. Picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol and hissing as he poured it over his abdomen.  
“Are there any clothes upstairs? If we wish to avoid hypothermia or infection we’ll need to get out of these sooner rather than later” he asked his companion in a voice steadier than he felt as he began to stitch the large exit wound by feel alone, lit only by the dim bulb swinging from the ceiling.  
Will went upstairs to check for any clothing that might have been left behind by the cabins occupants. Returning to the main room, he held one faded T-shirt, a pair of paint splashed sweatpants and 3 socks that didn’t match one another “not much in the way of clothes, I’m afraid” he announced “but I did find some blankets”. At this he turned his body to show the bundle of rough fabric tucked under his bad arm.  
Setting all the material down on the small dining table that separated the kitchen from the living area, he went about trying to light a fire in the fireplace that dominated the back wall. Hannibal has been working steadily on patching himself up, too absorbed in his task to really respond except for the occasional nod. Once he had finished cleaning and stitching everything he could reach for himself, he handed the equipment over to Will who moved to sit behind where Hannibal had leant over the arm to give him as much room to work as possible. He worked silently and as quickly as he could, Hannibal didn’t even twitch as the needle dragged through his ragged flesh, not even a hitched breath to betray his discomfort. 

When he was done, Will placed the needle and sutures back on the table, before reaching for the alcohol and pouring a slug over the gash on his face. He was wondering how he was going to sew it neatly enough to minimise the scar when Hannibal picked up a fresh needle and extended his hand to tenderly turn Wills cheek to face him. Wills breath caught at the contact, but he acquiesced; turning his body to follow. Hannibal worked quickly and in silence, leaving Will with a neat row of stitches on his cheek and a matching set on his shoulder. His other wounds would heal without the need for surgical intervention, but together they inspected and sterilised every scrape and cut that adorned their bodies.  
Conversation felt like too much work, so they didn’t really speak during any of this, an occasionally whispered “sorry” if one of them winced and a brief discussion about removing their soaked clothes to dry them in front of the fire. Eventually, Bundled in the scratchy blankets they sat on the floor of the cabin watching the fire flicker and the shadows dance. The only sounds were their combined laboured breathing and the crackle of logs in the grate. Will made them as comfortable as possible by dragging every cushion he could find onto the floor with them to save Hannibal having to try to make the walk upstairs. At first they lay parallel to one another, with a foot of space between them but after a while the adrenaline that had carried Will so far began to wane which left him shivering violently under his blanket. Silently Hannibal extended his arm and drew Wills shuddering form to his side, lifting his own blanket and wrapping it securely around them both. Will was grateful that he did not open his eyes, he didn’t think he’d be able to survive one of Hannibal's philosophical debates right now. Instead he just settled in the space below Hannibal's arm and tried to control the tremors. They shifted minutely until they lay comfortably, tangled limbs entwined.  
“Goodnight, Will”  
“‘Night”  
Will told himself he must have dreamt the soft brush of lips against his forehead as he drifted off to sleep, and he almost managed to convince himself.  
  
Almost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will makes a few discoveries, about Hannibal and about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> firstly, thank you everyone who's read and left Kudos, it really does mean the world <3 
> 
> secondly; here it is, Chapter 2! This ended up a little bit longer and a lot more angsty than I'd intended but too late now!
> 
> once again this is for @hannigraminsta, ily!
> 
> unbeta'd so all mistakes are my fault.

The following days passed in a haze of exhaustion; Will kept the fire burning. Whoever owned the cabin had kept the log store well stocked, they didn’t have to worry about fuel for a while. With Hannibal's injuries still raw, it was down to Will to prepare their meals. There was little in the way of fresh produce but the larder contained tins of vegetables, soups and pulses, with airtight containers of dried pasta and rice on a high shelf so they made do. By the second week Will felt well enough to investigate the cabin more thoroughly and found a small basement area with a chest freezer in the far corner. Breaking the rusted padlock easily with an old screwdriver, he found it to be well stocked with frozen cuts of meat and fish. This cabin was obviously a hunters’ solo retreat. Will thought he should feel bad about depleting the carefully collected stores of food and fuel, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. They had survived a literal trial by fire, they had earned this moment of respite. 

Grabbing a few steaks to take upstairs and defrost, he looked around the rest of the basement and found some old fishing gear tucked on top of an empty shelving unit. Resolving to catch Hannibal something fresh for their supper he made his way back up to the kitchen and placed the meat in the fridge to defrost.  
He checked the rod and found that whilst it was old, it was in good working order. He placed it on the table and walked softly up the stairs to where Hannibal was taking a nap in the single bed that occupied the converted attic space. He had opted to sleep on the couch for the time being, as his wounds were less severe. Hannibal had put up a small argument when Will had announced this but had ultimately acquiesced. He’d claimed the bedroom space as his own and except for occasional trips downstairs to eat or use the bathroom, that was exactly where he had stayed. Knowing that Hannibal needed the time to rest in order to heal, Will was content to give him the space to do so.

Will paused at the top of the stairs looking down at Hannibal; his hard angles softened by sleep and sandy hair falling across his face. His breathing was laboured but even, a faint sheen of sweat made his skin appear dewy in the low light. Once again Will felt the impulse to press his lips to Hannibals’ forehead, his lips, his...He wanted to do something to comfort and soothe his pain, wanted to convey every facet of his tangled emotions without the need to figure out how to verbalise them. Realising he didn’t even know how he’d begin to organise his thoughts, he settled for sitting on the edge of the bed. The old metal frame gave a tortured groan as his weight settled. He rested his hand cautiously on Hannibal's shoulder before moving it to push his hair back and away from his face. That brief contact was enough to feel the fever burning Hannibal from the inside, his clammy skin almost crackled with heat as Will pressed his hand more firmly against Hannibal's forehead. His worry sharply increased when his touch started Hannibal shivering uncontrollably but he still did not wake. Will could feel the tension ripple through his own body, Hannibal was clearly very sick but had not said a word about it; who knew how long he’d been keeping this to himself. Will tried again to wake the sleeping man; more forcefully this time, his scowl of worry deepening as he watched Hannibals’ eyelids flutter but never open.  
Tearing himself away and almost throwing himself down the stairs, Will found an old hand towel and a chipped bowl in the kitchen which he filled with cool water. Racing back up the stairs, leaving a trail of splashes in his wake, he returned to the attic space and knelt down beside Hannibal's shuddering form. He soaked the cloth in the bowl and wrung it out as much as possible before smoothing back the sandy hair that was clinging to Hannibals’ clammy forehead and gently running the cool cloth across his face and neck, making soothing noises as Hannibal whimpered beneath his ministrations.  
“I’m sorry...it’s okay...I’m sorry..” Will repeated softly, hoping that Hannibal could hear him through his fevered sleep. Having mopped the thin sheen of sweat from Hannibals’ skin, Will rinsed and folded the towel before draping it over his forehead; patting it securely into place. Instead of removing his hand, he brought his shaking palm to rest against the side of the flushed face beneath and trailed his thumb over the sharp cheekbone.  
“I’m going to have to lift your shirt and take a look, i’ll try not to touch too much, okay?” he got no response, exactly as he’d expected. Will stood quickly and pulled the blankets back off the bed, taking care not to jostle Hannibal too much in the process. The tremors that shook his unconscious body increased as soon as the cool air hit his febrile skin, but still Hannibal did not wake-up. Will was scared, but he and fear were already well acquainted. It sharpened his thoughts and allowed him to assess the situation with a great deal more clarity than he had previously afforded it.  
Maneuvering Hannibal onto his back, Will lifted his shirt in order to remove the rough dressings that covered his healing wound. A sharp intake of air hissed through his teeth as he saw the sutures straining against the skin surrounding the exit wound; inflamed, pink and shiny with infection.  
“Shit.” Will cursed under his breath, pushing both hands through his hair and pulling at the roots. “SHIT.” he said again for good measure. Breathing a heavy sigh, he scrubbed his hands down over his face, and resumed his place kneeling beside the bed, replacing first the dressing, then Hannibals’ shirt and finally the blankets. “I, I don’t know how to help. For fucks’ sake, If you’d hurt yourself fishing or...or..had been bitten by a dog i’d know what to do! Please, Hannibal, tell me what to do”. The last words left him in a pleading whine, he could feel his fear turning to panic at the same time as his eyes pricked with unshed tears. Drawing in his own unsteady breath Will leant forward and pressed his mouth to the Doctors’ as softly as he could; once, twice he brushed his lips across Hannibal's. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can, I promise. Don’t you dare die while i’m gone or i swear, Hannibal, i’ll find a way to bring you back so that i can kill you myself” a wry smile stretched Wills’ features at that thought. “I’ll be back”. 

With that, Will rose and once again descended the stairs, this time he didn’t stop as he flung the front door open and cleared the porch steps, his feet hitting the cold ground as he took off running towards the road they’d followed to find the cabin.  
The road looked different in daylight so it was hard to navigate this time around, but he could hear the cold water of the ocean crashing against the bluff far off into the distance to his right. He turned to his left and continued running as fast as the stitches pulling at his skin would allow. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard the engine approaching, but it had been long enough that his adrenaline had been burned up and his body had begun it’s painful protest. Still, he pushed forward until he rounded a corner and saw the car ahead of him. He stopped to catch his breath as it came closer, hands on his knees, his breaths deep and ragged with effort. The car began to slow as it approached the bedraggled stranger standing in the middle of an empty road. They cut the engine and came to a complete stop when Will flagged it down. He knew how he must look, half mad and in ill-fitting clothes with unkempt hair and fresh blood staining the front of his shirt where his stitches had pulled. There was no telling how far Jack and the FBI had spread pictures of his face so he silently prayed to any god who might be listening that he could get through this interaction without being recognised.  
“Hey buddy, you okay?” the bald man driving the car asked as he wound down his window, a look of wary concern on his face.  
“I need to find a garage and a pharmacy. I burst a tire, my buddy is pretty hurt. Can you help?” Will was aware he was being curt, but he didn’t have the luxury of time.  
“Nearest town is back the way I’ve just come, but it’ll take you a while to get there on foot” the stranger's face creased with concern at the same time as he gestured towards his rear window “is your buddy going to be okay?”  
“I don’t know” replied Will truthfully as he stepped closer to the car, leaning his arms on the drivers door “how far back is the town?” The man leaned away a little, his eyes shifting almost imperceptibly to check the key in the ignition before coming back up to rest on Wills’ face.  
“Er, about a 20 minute drive i guess. I, er, i hope you and your buddy are okay” the stranger supplied with a weak smile, clearly uncomfortable with Wills’ proximity.  
“We will be, thanks.” said Will, softly. At that, the stranger went to start his engine again - he moved quickly but Will moved faster. Will flung his arm out, hitting the man in the throat. Reflexively he brought his hand up to protect himself as he gasped for breath. Using this moment of distraction, Will lent in and pulled the keys from the ignition, throwing them a little way into the verge behind him. The stranger regained some composure and began to fumble in an attempt to start the engine before he realised what had just happened. It was too late, Will had already wrenched the door open, popped the seat-belt clasp and dragged the man out of the car and onto the road into a choke hold. Will could feel him trying to beg and plead with him through his laboured breaths but he knew there was no way he could risk the stranger giving his description to any law enforcement personnel. Their careful solitude would very quickly turn into Jack and his team descending on the whole area determined to end it once and for all.  
With that knowledge in mind, Will shifted his grasp to hold the mans’ head more securely and before he’d even had time to draw in his first full breath; Will twisted with all his strength, snapping the strangers’ neck cleanly. He let the dead weight fall forward, out of his hands and onto the road. Will did debate packing the man into the trunk of the car to dispose of later, but the torn stitches in his shoulder were already throbbing in protest. He didn’t think they’d be able to withstand lifting 270 pounds of dead weight. Instead, he checked all of his pockets, finding a wallet and a set of house keys. He checked and pocketed both before bracing his back against the car and pushing what had until recently been a Mr Luke Evans down the slight slope and into a cluster of bare hedges just to the side of the road. He followed and made sure to pile some fallen branches and plenty of leaves onto the site in the hope that it would be hidden from the road and therefore give them some time to get out of the area before it was discovered.  
Satisfied with his work, Will climbed back up the embankment and stooped to retrieve the car key from where he had discarded it. Settling into the car he blasted the heaters, made a U-turn and gunned the engine as he headed back towards whichever town was going to be unfortunate enough to find Will Graham driving through it.


End file.
